


all I want is what I can't buy now

by cherryvanilla



Category: Actor RPF, Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Hooker AU, Inspired by a Movie, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 12:03:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey, man. Can you tell me which way back to Rodeo?”</p>
<p>He narrows his eyes. “Seriously? Buy a GPS.”</p>
<p>(Or, the loosely-based-on-Pretty-Woman-hooker AU that literally no one asked for.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	all I want is what I can't buy now

**Author's Note:**

> "The hobo pack" refers to the term given to KStew's friends by fans. While the individuals portrayed within are indeed her RL friends, I don't claim to know specific details about their actual lives. 
> 
> In this universe, she didn't date RPattz. Contains brief mentions of past Tazer/Kaner. 
> 
> Thank you sooooo much to Abby for fantastic beta, and imp for suggestions/cheerleading. 
> 
> Title from Blood in the Leaves by Kanye (if you haven't listened to Yeezus yet, you should get on that.)
> 
> Related graphics: 

Kristen doesn’t know how she ended up in this part of L.A., to be honest. She’s never even seen it before, and she’s lived here all her life. The party was in the middle of nowhere, though, and her GPS keeps telling her to turn onto a road that clearly doesn’t exist. Her phone is doing no better, and so she’s essentially been driving in circles for the past 10 minutes. This is the last time she’ll ever listen to Rob when he tries to drag her to swanky shit that so isn’t her scene.

Kristen hasn’t seen anyone or anything around in forever, and when she finally turns onto what looks like a road with at least some life on it, she nearly screams in relief. There are a few guys standing on a corner in front of some now-closed stores, so she pulls over. The dude closest to her looks harmless enough, his hands in his pockets, shuffling from side to side; she doubts he’ll try to jack her truck, at least.

Kristen rolls down the window as he approaches. He leans against it, ducking in to look at her. His eyes are dark, and his shirt is tight around his biceps. He’s got a total baby face, but there’s something around his eyes - like he’s weathered, rundown. She can’t really place how old he might be, because of it.

“Hey, man. Can you tell me which way back to Rodeo?”

He narrows his eyes. “Seriously? Buy a GPS.”

She glares at him, pointing to her dash. “Obviously it doesn’t feel like doing its job tonight.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, I _have_ a job to do, and giving directions isn’t part of it.”

Kristen scoffs. “And just what is that at this hour, buddy?”

He gives her a blank look. “Have you seriously never seen a hooker before?”

Kristen gapes at him for a moment, looking him up and down and then glancing behind her at the other guys on the corner. Then she starts laughing.

The guy is totally unimpressed. “Look, you’re wasting my time,” he says, starting to turn away.

She holds up her hands. “I’m sorry, man. You just… look like you should be doing a bad photo shoot for, like, a Gap ad.”

He scoffs at her, which makes his face look like a duck, and she laughs harder.

“I’m leaving,” he says, flatly, taking a few steps away. She calls him back again, because she really would like to get home at some point and it’s like, 2 AM.

“Look, I’ll pay you for directions, okay?”

He raises an eyebrow, leaning in again. “How much?”

“20 bucks?”

Now it’s his turn to laugh. He leans further into her half-open window, and his voice is low and smooth when he says, “I do know who you are, you know.”

_Dammit_ , she thinks.

“$75?”

He taps his fingers against his forearm, impatiently.

“Oh come on, what do you want, $100? That’s probably what you charge for a fuck.”

His eyes darken, and he licks his lips. “You could find out,” he says, breathy, flirty, and okay, she guesses that’s Hooker Mode -- like he’s flipped a switch or something.

Kristen’s torn between laughing and actually getting a little turned on. It’s just that this dude’s face is so damn innocent...

“I’ll, uh, pass,” she says. “I’ll give you $75 for the directions.”

He opens his mouth, and just then it starts to downpour. He’s got nothing on but a t-shirt and jeans. She sees the other hookers flee for a store canopy nearby.

“Fuck, I gotta go,” he says, as the rain pelts down on him.

“What, are you gonna melt like the Wicked Witch or something?”

“Very funny. No one wants to put a dripping wet hooker in their fancy car, okay?”

She shrugs. “You got any place to stay tonight?”

“Not _yet_ ,” he says, pointedly.

She has a terrible thought. It’s all kinds of stupid, honestly, but she sort of likes this dude for some weird reason – likes his edge. It’s familiar; comforting.

“Get in,” she says, knowing she’s going to regret it. He could steal all her shit or sell the story to Star or something.

“Seriously?” He looks completely skeptical, and she doesn’t blame him.

“Look, I need directions; you need a place to stay. Name your price.”

“$500 for the night,” he says, immediately.

She narrows her eyes at him. “To be clear, I’m offering you _a_ bed, man. Not _my_ bed.”

He smirks. “It’d be the same price, regardless.”

“You’re a piece of work,” she says, a little impressed. “Whatever, get in.”

__________________________

The ride to her place is rather… awkward. He starts out giving her directions, and it turns out she wasn’t all that far from the freeway. Once that’s taken care of, there’s really nothing else to say. She blasts Iggy and the Stooges, and he makes a face. She hopes it’s just at the volume because otherwise she may need to revise her opinion of this dude. She lowers the music a little, regardless.

“What’s your name?”

He leans back in the seat, slouching a little. “Whatever you want it to be.”

“Please tell me that was just for my amusement.”

He laughs a little; it’s a good sound. “It was. Name’s Johnny.”

“I’d introduce myself, but that’d be redundant.”

“Yep.”

They’re silent again for a while. He starts mumbling lyrics when a Radiohead song comes on, and Kristen smiles, joining in. She meets his eyes at a light. He looks a little shy in the mix of shadows and streetlights.

It’s raining even harder when they get to her condo.

“Thanks for this,” he says, awkwardly, running a hand through his wet hair while they’re in the elevator. He sounds – earnest.

She shrugs, unprepared for that.

“I’ve got some t-shirts that’ll probably fit you,” she says as she lets them into her place, biting back a laugh when he immediately takes his shoes off and puts them on the mat by the door; this guy is full of surprises.

She heads to the kitchen as he looks around the living room.

“You want some water or something?” Kristen asks, throwing off her jacket and backwards baseball cap.

“Got a beer?” he calls, and she smirks, shaking her head.

“Sure, your highness. Want some pretzels, too?”

He rolls his eyes for show when she comes back with two Heinekens.

“So, I should tell you,” she says, looking up at him intently, “if you steal any of my shit or take any pictures, I’ll break your fucking legs.”

He swallows, hard, around his beer and nods. “I wouldn’t. Just so you know.”

Oddly enough, she believes him.

“I’ll get you a shirt.”

When she returns, he’s standing in the same spot, looking a little lost. She supposes he didn’t sit because she didn’t offer it, but he’s _here_ , so. She shakes her head in amusement and holds out an oversized white Darfur tee.

He chuckles at it before heading to the bathroom, presumably to get changed. Part of her wanted him to just do it right here and then; that same part of her feels like a total creeper, so she tamps the thought down and takes a long pull from her bottle.

She’s sitting on the couch with her now-shoeless feet on the coffee table when he returns. It looks like he dried his hair a little too; it’s fluffier than before. It’s a good look on him, she’s not going to lie. In fact, it’s her first real opportunity to notice just how attractive he is. If they’d met randomly, someplace other than a street corner under the guise of paying for sex, she’d totally try to pick him up.

“You wanna watch some TV or play some Wii or something?”

His eyes brighten, and they end up locked in a fierce game of Mario Kart. She spends most of the game laughing at his curses and temper tantrums.

“Sorry, for uh, cursing and all,” he mutters after she wins. He doesn’t sound like he means it.

“Whatever, bro. No one likes to lose.”

If anything, his jaw gets even tighter. It shouldn’t be cute, but it kind of is. She bumps his shoulder, companionably. He turns to her in surprise and then smiles, slowly, face relaxing, and bumps her back a little.

“Wanna go again?” She grins, waggling her eyebrows.

“Bring it on,” he says, and then they’re off.

He wins this time, and he’s obnoxious about it, too, raising his arms over his head and making gestures that he’s number one.

“Whatever, dude, so you won a game.”

“Haven’t played that in forever,” he says, leaning back against the couch, eyes shining like a kid at Christmas. She wants to ask how long is forever, why he’s even doing this shit, but that’s so out of line and also totally cliché (as if this entire night isn’t already).

“We can play again,” she says.

He studies her for a second. “Nah, it’s okay.”

It’s like something shifted; the room is suddenly stagnant, and she can’t look away from this dude’s eyes. She blames it on not getting any in awhile -- it’s the only reason she could even remotely be considering this.

Kristen reaches for her beer, only to find it nearly empty. She nearly groans, running a hand through her hair.

She looks up at the same time Johnny raises his head, and fuck, if that’s not like an electric spark, the tension palpable in the air. He sits up straight, looking down at his legs.

“So, uh, I can just take the couch –”

“We can – I mean, if you wanna –”

Their words overlap, and they stare at one another. She basically wants to die from how awkward this is, unused to being this fucking clumsy; then again, she’s never taken a hooker home only to -- after the fact -- decide she wants to fuck him.

“Uh, what were you going to say?” Johnny asks.

She takes a breath. “Just that -- well, if you just want to crash, that’s totally fine. I mean, you’re getting paid either way – in fact --” She gets up and walks to her purse, pulling out five $100 bills, and hands them to him as she sits down again. “Just so we’re clear on that.”

He nods, silently, and tucks the bills into the pocket of his jeans, waiting patiently.

She grabs his beer and downs the rest of it. “But… if you feel like getting laid on top of it, I’d be cool with that. I mean, you did say same price, right?”

Kristen watches the corner of his mouth turn upward. “You mean _you_ feel like getting laid.”

She grins back, sheepishly, feeling her face heat. “Yeah, well. That, too.”

She really only wants him to sleep with her if he’d do it regardless, not just because he’s getting money out of it. It may be dumb, but it’s important to her. But she can’t bring herself to come right out and ask, “Hey, are you really into me?”

Johnny pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, tugging. “Okay,” he says, quietly.

Kristen’s stomach flutters, a mix of nerves and excitement, and she edges closer to him on the couch. They move in at the same time, but he ducks his head at the last second, kissing her neck.

“I don’t kiss on the mouth,” he says against her skin, flicking his tongue out and making her shiver.

Kristen huffs out a laugh. “I thought that was just in movies.”

“Art imitates life,” Johnny says, dryly, and her next laugh trails off on a moan as he bites a little.

“Am I your first Hollywood star?” she asks, teasingly, as he trails kisses over her jaw.

“Hardly,” he snorts. “The stories I could tell you.”

She bites her lip as his hands move over her breasts, cupping gently through her shirt.

“What do you want?” he asks against her ear, tugging at the lobe.

Kristen shivers. “Whatever, man.”

Johnny slips his hands beneath her shirt and deftly unhooks her bra before gripping her breasts again, this time with his bare hands.

“How’s this?” he asks, lips against her throat, as his thumbs brush against her nipples.

She gasps as they harden further at the touch. “Yeah, s’good.”

“Want my mouth?” he asks, licking slowly up her throat, and fuck, there’s that low, flirty voice again, except this time she’s nowhere near laughter.

“Come on,” she says, and pushes him back to strip off her own shirt, taking the bra with it. He looks down at her, and when his eyes meet hers again, she can see how blown his pupils are. She doubts he’s this good of a faker, so that’s something, at least.

She grabs the hem of his shirt, looking up. “Can I?”

He laughs. “It’s your shirt.”

Kristen rolls her eyes. “Whatever,” she says, and strips it off him. He’s well-defined, not too hairy, and a bit pale. She runs her hands up his chest, watches as his eyes fall shut before snapping open.

“Let me,” Johnny says, and then moves in slowly, kissing her breast before sucking on her nipple. She threads her fingers in his hair and holds him there, gasping as he alternates between sucking and biting, first on the left, then the right.

She feels herself get wetter and arches upward, wanting some friction. Johnny drops to his knees on the carpet, between her spread legs, and mouths his way down her stomach, tugging on the waistband of her jeans with his teeth.

He looks up at her, smirking.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” she says, a little impatient, and he laughs, before slowly undoing her button and zipper. They both awkwardly strip her of her jeans until she’s clad in only her underwear. He runs his hands up her thighs, framing her torso and leaning in slowly to lap at her pussy through her panties. She’s wearing plain black hiphuggers today, nothing fancy. He moans a little against her, the sound vibrating against her body and making her shudder.

“You smell good,” he says, pulling her underwear between his teeth.

She laughs, shakily. “Bet you say that to all the girls.” Then she has a thought. “Or boys?”

She watches him shrug one shoulder as he runs his finger up the crease of her thigh.

“Girls and guys,” he says.

She nearly says _same_ , but she probably shouldn’t be offering up details regarding her sexuality to someone who already has enough on her as it is. Then she has another thought.

“But, uh, do you like both?” She gets that with hookers, a job is a job, but honestly, she’d really hate it if she knew this was doing absolutely nothing for him.

Johnny halts his slow licking over her panties and looks up at her. “I do. Trust me, this isn’t a hardship right now.”

Kristen relaxes, feeling herself blush a little. Thankfully, he gets back to work, finally easing down her underwear and spreading her pussy with one hand, licking in long, sure strokes. She sighs and sinks further into the sofa, gasping when he sucks on her clit.

“Fuck, just like that.”

He moans in response and keeps up the pressure, his fingers teasing lower, slipping one halfway inside her. She’s so fucking wet and can feel herself on edge already. His mouth feels like it’s everywhere, so hot and slick. He starts fingering her in time with licking her clit, and when he slides two fingers inside and grazes his teeth against her before sucking hard, she comes, body arching and gasping moans spilling from her lips.

“Jesus Christ,” she breathes, shaking. His fingers are still inside her, and he’s licking her slowly while his free hand rubs at her torso.

She blinks away the haze from her eyes and looks down at him. He’s wiping at his mouth, and she can see his dick straining against his jeans.

“Do you want—“ she starts, breaking off as he nods.

“Anything you want,” he says, voice rough.

She stands and looks down at him, before offering her hand.

“Come on,” she says, helping Johnny up and leading him to the bedroom.

They fuck without preamble, missionary style with her legs around his waist. She’s not surprised that he’s the best fuck she’s ever had. He knows just how to hit the right spots, just when to speed it up and slow it down. There’s none of the awkward ‘finding a rhythm’ that she often experiences.

He fucks her hard and fast towards the end, and she arches into every thrust, meeting him on every upstroke.

His mouth is hot against her neck, and he keeps kissing the skin, keeps mouthing at her shoulder, her collarbone.

His hand slips between their bodies and presses hard against her clit. “Are you close?” he whispers.

“Yeah,” she sighs. They’re both sweaty, breathing hard, and she honestly wouldn’t mind if it went on all night.

“Come for me, then,” he says, like a command, and God if it isn’t hot.

She does about a minute later, clenching around his dick as he keeps up the pressure on her clit until she can’t stand it and has to shake him away.

“Want me to keep going?” Johnny asks as she tries to get her breathing under control.

“Go for it,” she says, scratching at his back.

She’s impressed how much longer he lasts. By the time he comes, his mouth against her jaw and groaning softly, she’s nearly ready to go off again herself.

He slumps against her, kisses her cheek, her temple, before pulling out. He gets up to get rid of the condom, and she points out the trash can.

“Thanks,” he says, getting back into bed.

She laughs, and thumbs at her clit for a second, almost mindlessly.

His eyes follow before meeting her gaze. “Yeah?”

She blushes, glad it’s mostly dark in the room. “Shut up and do something.”

He grins, kissing her shoulder before going down on her again. It takes all of a minute before she’s a boneless mess again. He kisses up her body, lingering at her tits, before stopping right below her lips.

He meets her eyes and then slowly leans in and presses his mouth to the corner of her lips.

Kristen tells herself it’s really dumb to feel a little disappointed after all that, but chalks it up to it being awhile without any tongue action, too.

Johnny lies down beside her, before propping himself up on one elbow.

“I can take the couch. Or, like, a guest room.”

Kristen wants to say _don’t be silly_ , but supposes he’s saying what he’s hoping she’ll allow – a bed to himself rather than sleeping with a “client.” She stops herself from wincing.

“Yeah, sure,” she replies, nonchalantly.

Something flickers in Johnny’s eyes, but it’s gone just as fast. He stands and picks up his jeans and underwear from the floor before turning to face her. “Cool. So, uh, thanks again – I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I should be thanking you, man.” She laughs, sardonically.

Something crosses his face again, a kind of tightness, but again it’s gone too quick for her to completely analyze.

“Yeah,” Johnny says. “G’night, Miss Stewart.”

He starts to turn around, and she frowns, hard. “Whoa, whoa. I’m not Mrs. Robinson, here. It’s Kristen.”

He pauses at the door and looks back at her. “Kristen,” he repeats, a small smile tugging at his lips.

She stares at the door for a few moments after he leaves, before getting up to go to the bathroom. She wonders if he’s taking the couch or the guest room, realizing she never showed him where the latter was.

Kristen throws on a t-shirt and heads out, checking the guest room first. Empty. Then she checks the couch. Nothing.

“What the fuck,” Kristen mutters before calling his name.

She looks over at the table by the door before approaching. Her shirt is folded up, and on top of it is $300 of the $500.

Kristen isn’t sure what’s confusing her more: why he left or why he didn’t take all of the money. She feels a pang of – something. She scratches at her face, telling herself he’ll be fine, has a enough for a cab or whatever, and heads back into the bedroom.

It’s a long time before she falls asleep.

__________________________

Kristen thinks about the dude quite a bit over the next week. She tells herself it’s because she’s bored; her latest film recently wrapped, and the publicity train for the one that’s coming out soon hasn’t started yet.

That’s all it is, and it’s not like she’d be able to find the guy again, even if she wanted to. It’s not like she’s about to get deliberately lost attempting to find his corner just to make sure the dude actually got a cab and didn’t, like, catch pneumonia or something.

“I picked up a hooker last weekend,” she tells Rob, casually, over lunch at his place on Thursday.

He spits out his burger; it’s gross. “Wait, whoa. Like, a woman?”

She glares at him. “No, not a woman, sexist. Being a hooker isn’t something limited to the female population.”

He throws a french fry at her. “I know; that’s why it was a question! Although I thought the guys are called rentboys?”

She chucks the fry back at him. “That’s because you’re fucking British.”

“You wound me. Anyway, had no idea you were this hard up.” He grins at her, evilly, before teasing, “I would’ve given you a go.”

She mock-gags with her finger. “Gross. And I’m _not_ , you dick. It was… an accident.”

“How does one accidentally sleep with a hooker?” he asks, dubiously.

“When _one_ is dragged to a dumb party by their asshole best friend, gets lost, and has to stop for directions.”

Now he’s downright giggling, and she regrets saying anything in the first place. He’s the fucking worst, ever.

“I’m sorry, sorry,” he says, holding up his hands and still laughing. “I just fail to see how that leads to shagging.”

She groans, covering her face with her hands, before pushing her plate away. “I paid him for the directions and a place to stay 'cause it was downpouring. Things just… escalated.”

“I’ll say,” Rob snorts.

She flips him off.

“Well… how was it, then?”

Kristen feels her cheeks flush, recalling the night – for, okay, maybe the third or so time this week – and ducks her head, smile playing at her lips. “Pretty damn good, not gonna lie.”

He laughs, delighted. “You’re so embarrassed right now.”

She lifts her head, leveling him with a blank stare. “Fuck you, I’m not.”

“You most definitely are, K. You gonna see him again?” he asks, teasing her like she’s some teenager back from her first date.

“Nah, man, he split after.”

“Huh,” Rob says, thoughtfully. “What’s his name?”

She narrows her eyes at him but guesses it wouldn’t hurt to tell. “Johnny.”

“Johnny the hooker.” He sounds way too amused about this whole thing.

She scrubs her hands over her face and through her hair. “Argh, I can’t believe I told you this.”

“My lips are sealed,” he says, pretending to lock his lips with a key. “More than yours probably were.”

She rolls his eyes and doesn’t correct him; her lips were pretty damn tragically sealed. In fact, she never even _touched_ his dick, she realizes with a start.

That’s one thing she’d totally rectify if – well, if things were different. No use thinking about it now, though. It happened, and now it’s over.

__________________________

Saturday afternoon, she’s out with CJ at some super-trendy restaurant on Wilshire. It’s not Ivy levels of noticeability, but it’s definitely not some hole in the wall, either. She’s happy she wore a hat, and turns it so the brim is low against her face, slipping on her sunglasses as well.

“Come on, CJ, the fuck is this. I get spotted pumping gas.”

He shrugs. “They opened a month ago or so and are getting great reviews. Look, they’ve got hummus,” he says cheerfully, pointing it out on the menu

“I hate you,” she mutters and sinks further into her seat. It’s like she’s just _asking_ for attention in a place like this, and sadly, she knows plenty of people in the industry who do purposely seek it out. As if their fucking egos aren’t big enough already.

They order, and Kristen relaxes enough to have a good time, laughing at CJ’s latest tale that showcases his ever-so-glamorous life as a bouncer.

As they’re waiting for the check, Kristen notices the busboy at the table across from them glancing in her direction before turning quickly away. She didn’t clearly see his face, but something about his stance looks familiar.

He turns back again, and she’s glad she’s got the shades on because holy shit, that’s – Johnny.

He studies her for a moment, like he’s trying to place her or something, and then turns back to his job once more. Kristen just stares at his back, and then his ass, which is something she definitely didn’t get a chance to appreciate enough of that night, because damn.

“Earth to Kristen,” CJ says, waving his hand in front of her.

She snaps out of it and turns back to him. “Oh, uh, sorry.”

The check arrives, and she snatches it up, even though CJ protests. When she looks back, Johnny’s nowhere to be found.

As they’re walking out, she stops and makes a show of feeling the front of her jeans. “Shit, think I left my phone, man.”

“I’ll get it,” CJ says, and she puts a hand on his arm, stopping him.

“Nah, just go to the valet, I’ll meet you.”

Kristen heads back towards their table and looks around. She sees Johnny near the back of the restaurant where there are a few empty tables and approaches.

“Um, hey, man, can we talk?”

He nearly jumps and steps back, looking down at her. She hasn’t taken off the sunglasses.

“Follow me,” he mutters, and she does, until they’re standing in the small hallway that leads to the kitchen.

“I can’t talk long,” he says.

She moves her hat so it’s backwards. “Yeah, no, I get it.”

Johnny scratches at his neck, shifting on his feet. He looks tired.

Now that he’s in front of her, she has no idea what she wants to say. Luckily, she doesn’t have to think for long.

“Sorry about, uh, leaving like that?” he says, quietly. “I had a lot on my mind that day. I’d just gotten evicted from my apartment that morning.”

“Bummer, man,” she says, and then they have to shift, Kristen moving backward and Johnny moving forward, as someone storms out of the kitchen with food. She looks up at him and says quietly, “Why didn’t you just take all the money, then?”

He shrugs, looking uncomfortable, but doesn’t respond.

Kristen sighs, inwardly. “So, uh, you work here,” she says, lamely, but it makes him grin.

“Obviously.”

She makes a face and shoves at him. “Uh-huh. Don’t you run into some of your _star_ clients here? Case in point,” she says, gesturing mockingly to herself.

Johnny’s grin widens, but it looks slightly devious now. He leans in and whispers, “Where do you think I get some of them?”

Kristen’s gaping at him when he pulls back. “Shut up,” she says, a little impressed.

He just shrugs again, but this time it’s cocky as fuck.

She knew she liked this guy for a reason.

Someone comes down the hall again, and Johnny looks out towards the tables. “Look, I really gotta go.” He sounds almost apologetic.

She nods and can’t even justify what she does next. “Hey, uh, take my number. In case you have apartment trouble again or whatever.”

Johnny stares at her, and she doesn’t know what he’s looking for, since her eyes are shielded by the sunglasses.

“Okay,” he says, slowly, sounding completely confused. Whatever. “I don’t have my phone on me when I’m working, though.”

“We’ll do this old school, then,” she says, dryly, digging into the bag slung over her shoulder for a pen and writing it on the inside of his wrist.

She ignores the small jolt she feels at the contact and lets him go quickly. He rubs his finger over his wrist, almost absently, and steps back.

“Uh, so, see ya,” Johnny says.

“Yeah, see ya.”

She watches him walk into the kitchen area and leans back against the wall for a moment, thinking about how epically dumb that just was, before heading out to CJ.

__________________________

A few days later, Kristen’s just gotten home from her photo shoot with Interview when her phone rings. She doesn’t recognize the number, but it’s local.

Normally she’d let it go to voicemail, but instinct makes her answer.

“What up?” she says, trying to disguise her voice a little, in case it’s some creeper.

“Uh, Kristen?”

She knows that voice. “Yeah. Hey.”

“It’s Johnny. From - anyway, uh, sorry to call.”

He sounds like he’s about to hang up, which is completely ridiculous.

“Dude, I gave you my number. What’s going on?”

“I was wondering if your offer was still open,” he says, after a long pause. “My buddy’s moving in with his boyfriend, last minute, and he’s taking the couch I’m staying on with him.”

“Well, that sucks. Yeah, man, you can crash here for as long as you need.”

“That’d be great,” Johnny says, relief evident in his voice.

“Do you need a ride?”

“Nah, I can take the bus.”

She gives him her address and then starts straightening up a little; her housekeeper doesn’t come until the weekend.

He shows up a few hours later with just one duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He’s wearing a leather jacket, a plain grey t-shirt and jeans that are far too tight.

“Hey,” she says, letting him in. 

“Hi,” Johnny replies, rubbing at his neck. His face is flushed, and he’s a bit sweaty. “I’m sorta rank, sorry. The bus let me off like 5 miles away.”

“Oh. There’s probably a closer one; I’ll have to check on that. You want a shower?”

There’s that relief again, this time on his face. “That’d be great, thanks.”

She shows him where the bathroom and towels are and then puts on a vinyl of Blondie’s Parallel Lines before stretching out on the couch, reading.

He comes out during the end of One Way or Another, making that the quickest shower ever. He’s also only in a towel, his hair wet and shaggy.

Kristen sits up and tries not to stare at his chest, which is also still wet. 

“Uh,” she says, blinking.

“Did you want to do this here, or...” Johnny asks as he starts to undo the towel.

She raises her hands, automatically. “Whoa, dude. Stop.”

He does, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion while color rises to his cheeks. “I, uh. Sorry, I just assumed - since you’re letting me stay that you’d want...”

“...that I’d want sexual favors in turn for general kindness?”

His mouth snaps shut, and the flush deepens. “Sorry,” he repeats, ducking his head and looking far too vulnerable.

“Look, man, I don’t know what people have made you do in the past in return for a favor, but just _saying_ thank you is fine with me.”

He nods, sharply, and looks up at her, some of the embarrassment fading. “Thank you; seriously. It shouldn’t be more than a few days, I promise.”

She waves her hand. “Whatever. You want food? I was gonna order something.”

He nods.

“Sweet. Get dressed and I’ll find some menus.”

Kristen tries and fails not to watch him as he walks away, hating that she still wants him. But it can’t happen again. At least - not under a circumstance in which she’s paying him or he thinks he _needs_ to put out. She gave him a choice that first night, made it clear he didn’t _have_ to. If they get to a position like that again, then... maybe. 

She shakes her head, cursing under her breath, and goes to find the menus.

When Johnny returns, his hair is less wet, and he’s barefoot in sweats and a tank top. She groans, inwardly, and slides a selection of menus in front of him. They decide on a local cafe, ordering chopped salads and smoothies and sitting together at her dining room table. It’s weird when he tries to pay for it, but she takes the money just because she doesn’t want to offend him. They eat in an awkward silence until he asks about her record player and what albums she has, and then they’re off on a whole music discussion, which is fine by her, since she could go for hours. 

Kristen discovers, to her horror, that Johnny likes country, and laughs at his attempted passionate defense of the genre.

“Dude, I’ll give you Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, even Dolly Parton. But modern country is fuck awful.”

He frowns and stabs at his salad. “Tim McGraw is good,” he mumbles, sounding pissed.

She laughs, utterly amused by his entire self right now. “Have we changed the definition of ‘good’ in the past five minutes?”

He raises his head and glares at her, until his mouth quirks up and he starts chuckling.

She throws a tomato at him.

“Shut up,” he mutters, but he’s still grinning. 

Thankfully, he does like other things - namely, classic rock. They get into a long discussion about who’s better: The Rolling Stones or The Who, and they both agree The Stones, hands down.

Kristen puts on her vinyl of Let it Bleed, and they just chill on the couch, listening and talking about concerts they’ve been to.

“I haven’t been to any in a while,” he admits. “Caught Radiohead at the Hollywood Bowl in ‘08, though.”

“I think I was at that show.”

His face brightens at that, and then, just as fast, it closes up. “I had shitty seats, so.”

She rolls her eyes. “Whatever, man.”

He’s tense again, all the companionable ease having evaporated in seconds.

“I was thinking I might take a nap, if that’s okay with you?”

She jerks out of her thoughts and nods, feeling bewildered. “Yeah, sure. You don’t have to ask.”

She shows him the guest room.

“Just, put your shit in the dresser if you want.”

“Thanks,” he says, not looking at her. She shuts the door and goes back to the living room, considering smoking a bowl. She grabs a cigarette instead and smokes on her balcony, hoping they can get back to that part where things weren’t weird for no reason. 

__________________________

Kristen barely sees Johnny the next day, as he’s opening at the restaurant. By the time he gets home, she’s leaving, having already made plans with CJ.

“Help yourself to food and, you know, the XBox or Wii or whatever,” she says, throwing her mess of hair up into a ponytail.

“Thanks,” he says, standing awkwardly in the living room.

“CJ and I shouldn’t be out too long. He’s the guy I was at the restaurant with.”

“Ah,” he says, biting his lip. “That your boyfriend?”

She laughs. “No, man. A friend. Plus I wouldn’t have slept--” She cuts herself off, feeling her ears burn.

_Fuck_ , she thinks, as his head drops, and feels like shit for bringing up that night, since it’s obviously making him uncomfortable.

“Well, have fun,” he says, before turning and heading to the guest room.

She sighs as she leaves.

Kristen doesn’t tell CJ anything, even though he’d probably be way cooler with it than Rob. They grab dinner and then chill at one of their regular bars. The house is dark when she comes home.

__________________________

Kristen and Johnny sort of filter in and out of one another’s space over the next two days. Johnny’s schedule is mostly afternoons, and at night, they either play Wii or watch movies.

“This is weird,” Johnny says as they’re watching _Drive_.

Kristen stiffens. There’s a good amount of space between them on the couch; she’s been careful not to make him uncomfortable. “What?”

“I dunno, just watching movies with you. You work with some of these people.”

She laughs, relaxing. “Trust me, it’s not as glamorous as it looks.”

He shrugs one shoulder and goes back to watching.

Later that night, she gets up for some water just as Johnny’s quietly shutting the door to his room. He’s got his jacket on and freezes when he sees her, before quickly looking her up and down. She’s just in her boxers and a white tee, though, so it’s not like it's lingerie. Nevertheless, Kristen watches him swallow.

“Where are you going?”

His face twists. “Work,” he says, brushing past her.

She frowns, putting a hand on his arm. “Do you have to, though?”

He laughs, bitterly, and turns around. “All the places I’m looking at are completely out of my price range, but they’re the only things available right now, and I don’t have anyone to rent with. So, yeah, I need to take in some quick bucks or I’ll just be here indefinitely.”

“So?” She shrugs. “Not like I don’t have the room, man. And it’s nice having company, even if you are kinda quiet.”

Johnny gapes at her for a moment, before blurting, “You don’t even know me! I could rob you, hurt you.”

Kristen crosses her arms over her chest. “But you won’t. I know _that_ much, man.”

Johnny scoffs. “I have bills,” he says, and starts to walk away again.

“I’ll pay you,” she says, barely even thinking it through. She honestly has no idea what she’s doing anymore.

He turns slowly and eyes her, blankly. “What?”

“I’ll pay you, to like, live here. You can save some money and shit, figure out what you want to do.”

“I already have a job,” he reminds her. She knows he isn’t talking about the restaurant.

Kristen takes a step closer. “Yeah, but do you like it?” she asks, quietly.

Johnny avoids her gaze, shrugging. “Not always. But sometimes it’s not so bad,” he says, meeting her eyes briefly before looking away again, swiftly.

“Then just stay.”

Johnny studies her face. “So, what? Would I be your rentboy, then?”

“No!” she nearly shouts, flushing.

Johnny frowns. “So you’ll just… pay me… to live in your house.”

“Yeah. I mean, you seem to have shit luck with apartments, so.” Kristen wishes the floor would swallow her up. This dude keeps thinking she’s trying to sleep with him in some shady way, and maybe that’s somewhat her own fault. Honestly, at this point, she wishes she could just take back that first night.

“I guess,” he admits. Then he's silent for a moment, obviously mulling it over. “Well,” Johnny says, finally, shrugging again, “it’s your money.”

“Look, only if you want to. If you’d rather go back to your corner right now, I can’t really stop you. I’m just giving you options.”

They stare at one another for a moment, again. “I’d,” he starts, swallowing thickly, a dazed expression on his face. “I’d like to stay.”

Kristen lets out a breath and grins. “Cool. We’ll work out the details in the morning. Get some sleep.”

“Yeah,” he says, looking nonplussed. “Night.”

__________________________

When Kristen awakens the next morning, Johnny’s already up and making eggs.

“Hi,” she says around a yawn, and then spots the coffee. “Oh my god, you’re my hero.”

She sees his grin out of the corner of her eye.

“I hope you like scrambled with mushrooms and onions,” he says, as she’s pouring the coffee.

“I do, but you didn’t need to make me breakfast, man, just because you’re staying longer.”

Johnny shrugs. “I wanted to.”

“Well, thanks,” Kristen replies, claiming a seat at the island. “Smells great.”

“Used to work in a diner. Sort of a master at eggs, any style.”

“Sweet,” she says, filing away that little detail. It’s the first real info he’s offered up about himself. 

Hell, she doesn’t even know his last name.

“Do you want toast?” Johnny asks, as he’s shoveling the eggs onto two plates.

“Nah, this is fine.”

He deposits her plate in front of her with a fork and then pours himself some coffee.

They sit next to one another, and she catches up on email on her phone as she eats. “This is fucking great,” she says around a mouthful.

“Thanks.” He laughs.

“So, I was thinking 3 grand for the month. How’s that sound?”

Johnny chokes on his food, coughing and blinking hazily at her. “Are you serious?”

“Yep. What do you say?”

“I say that’s way too fucking much!”

“Gotta supplement your other income, man.”

He sighs, staring down at his plate. “Do you do this often?”

“What?” Kristen asks.

“Like, help out charity cases?”

Her mouth twists. “You’re not a charity case, dude. And I don’t pity you, if that’s what you’re thinking. You’re a pretty decent guy, and I’m happy to like, make your life a little easier for a bit.”

“Sounds like a charity case to me,” he mutters.

“Well, I think it’s more of a friends thing, but whatever.”

His head jerks up at that. “Friends? Seriously, you don’t even know me.”

She shrugs. “So tell me something. What’s your full name?”

He opens his mouth like he’s about to protest before snapping it shut again.

Kristen raises an eyebrow. “Don’t preach about me not knowing you and then refuse to tell me anything, buddy.”

Johnny scowls. “Toews. Jonathan Bryan Toews, okay?”

“Kristen Jaymes Stewart,” she says, holding out her hand for him to shake. “Pleased to meet you.”

He shakes his head, smiling a little, and grips her hand in his own. “Jaymes?” he replies, amused.

“Shut up,” Kristen chides, pulling away. “You’re not from around here, are you? I totally hear a Canadian accent.”

She watches him wince, immediately regretting pushing that much.

“Uh, yeah, no. Grew up in Manitoba.”

“Cool,” she says, wondering if she should even bother asking more. Curiosity gets the best of her, though. “Are your parents still—“

“I’d rather not talk about my family,” he says in a rush, cutting her off. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s my fault. Uh. What’s your favorite movie?” she asks, figuring that’s safe at least.

“I don’t really have one. I like a lot of comedies. And I liked _The Social Network_ , even though I hate Facebook.”

She laughs. “Everyone I know hates Facebook, including the star of that film.”

He wipes at his mouth with a napkin, finished with his eggs. “It’s so weird to me that you know those people.”

She shrugs. “Hey man, you’re the one who bragged about star clients yourself.”

Kristen watches as his mouth evens out a little. “Yeah, but I don’t know them. Not like that. They pay me to be what they want, they don’t want to talk. You’re –you’re the first famous person I’ve ever really talked to, this way.”

It’s the most he’s offered up since Kristen met him, and she’s a little shellshocked. She sighs, wanting to reach out and cover his hand or something, but also not wanting to make him uncomfortable. So she gives him an honest, if totally stock, reply. “I’m just a girl, Johnny. I don’t think of myself as some ‘famous person’. It means shit to me. I just wanna act.”

“It’s intimidating,” he admits, still not meeting her eyes. She appreciates his honesty, even if she has no idea how to make him more comfortable. She _is_ an actress, though, and so improvisation is key sometimes.

“How about we play some Mario Kart, and I’ll show you just how intimidating I can be.”

He finally raises his head and looks her in the eye, smiling broadly now. “You’re on.”

__________________________

Kristen leaves a personal check on the night stand in the guest room the next morning, before meeting with her agent to go over the upcoming press run. The film she’s doing isn’t anything huge, so there won’t be any out-of-town premieres. However, there are still the general TV and print interviews.

She hears music as she approaches her door, and is a little surprised when she realizes it's “Lurgee.”

“Pablo Honey?” she asks, dropping her keys and bags by the door.

Johnny jumps a little from where he’s lying on the couch, scrubbing at his eyes. “Uh, yeah. Hope it’s okay I’m listening…”

Kristen rolls her eyes. “Dude, the living room area is, like, common space,” she says while grabbing a bottle of water from the kitchen. She brings one for Johnny too, just in case. “What’s mine is yours.”

“Thanks,” he says, taking the water from her hand. His skin is soft as it brushes hers.

“Don’t mention it,” she says, grabbing the spot next to him and making him move his legs. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for early Radiohead, though.”

He shrugs. “I like the guitars.”

Thom’s singing repeatedly about how he got strong and there’s nothing wrong. It makes something twist inside her at Johnny listening to this.

“It was a pretty amateurish effort, but not bad,” Kristen says. “Right now I’m listening to a lot of In Rainbows.”

They listen to the rest of the album, comparing favorites, before making dinner together. It feels stupidly domestic, yet oddly comfortable. Except for the way Johnny jerks a little anytime they touch. Or the way he’ll look at her and then turn quickly away. She’s sort of in the same boat there, but she seriously doubts he’s doing it because he wants to jump her bones. 

Despite the occasional awkwardness, she’s enjoying his company and slowly learning a bit more of his likes and dislikes. For example, L.A. grates on him at times.

“It’s just so desolate sometimes,” he says one night when they’re eating Chinese take-out right from the cartons and watching Ferris Bueller on Netflix. “And fake, Jesus.”

Kristen laughs. “I know the feeling.”

Johnny shakes his head, sarcastic smile on his lips. “No idea how you’ve lived here your whole life.”

She peers at him, a grin forming on her face. “I never told you that. You been googling me, buddy?”

“ _No,_ ” he sputters. It’s kind of cute how flustered he sounds.

“Yeaaah, you totally have.”

He’s full-out blushing now, and Kristen’s forced to upgrade the “cute” assessment to “adorable”. 

“Maybe,” Johnny concedes.

She shoves at his shoulder. “You could just ask me, dummy.”

“Okay,” Johnny agrees, seriously.

Their eyes lock, and she feels a surge of heat, like a moment is happening. She watches him lick his lips before clearing his throat and turning back to the TV. They avoid one another’s eyes for the rest of the evening.

Kristen fingers herself that night, rubbing hard at her clit until she’s shaking and breathing hard. She tries not to think of anyone specific, but she can’t help it for long and is soon imagining Johnny’s mouth, his hands, riding his dick and making them both moan. Kristen bites her lip as she comes, chest heaving and thighs trembling.

“Fuck,” she groans, before sliding her hand out of her boxers and rolling onto her side. It’s a while before she can fall asleep, lost in a state of want, guilt, and also curiosity; she doesn’t think she was totally alone in whatever happened on the couch earlier, but she can’t just assume he’d be interested in doing her without getting paid. And propositioning him outright, for a second time, isn’t something she’s about to do again.

“Fuck,” she says again, and closes her eyes. 

__________________________

Kristen has a hair appointment, a photo shoot, and an appearance on Leno; so basically a day of dress-up and bullshit when all she wants to do is bum around rather than pretending to care about what she looks like. She asks her agent, for the millionth time, if she can just show up on TV in her jeans and an old ratty Bowie shirt. For the millionth time, he says no. It’s an old running joke of theirs, and it still never fails to get a chuckle out of Courtney, Kristen’s assistant.

Leno is pretty tedious on a good day, and so naturally he asks if she’s dating anyone. If she were a guy, he’d probably have said “I bet ‘x y z’ really works with the ladies.” So she responds, flippantly, with “Yeah, actually, I’m dating myself right now. It’s going pretty stellar, except my left hand is sometimes jealous of my right.”

Bernie’s shaking his head when she returns backstage.

“What?” she asks, innocently. “At least I didn’t curse this time.”

“You know they’re probably going to edit that. “

“Whatever,” Kristen says, winking at Courtney, who’s smirking behind Bernie. It was worth it just to see the look on Leno’s face.

She and Courtney grab dinner, and as they’re leaving, she sees a card for a Stones laser light show at the planetarium tonight. Inspired, she texts Johnny.

**You around tonight?**

The response is immediate. **Yeah. Out with a friend now but won’t be much longer.**

**Cool** , she replies back, idly wondering if 'out with a friend' means 'working.' She obviously can’t stop him from hooking if he really wants to - she just hopes he doesn’t think he _has_ to. Kristen then realizes she doesn’t even know if he’s seeing anyone, so 'friend' could also mean 'date.'

_Or it could really just be a friend, and you can stop being completely ridiculous_ , she tells herself, utterly disgusted.

“Hey,” she calls when she gets home.

“Hey,” Johnny replies, walking down the hall from his – the guest room. “Oh, wow, you look…”

Kristen glances down at herself. She’s got on black dress pants, a white tank top and a black blazer.

“Oh, yeah. Press shit.”

He stares at her, before blinking. “Did you do something with your hair?”

Kristen runs her fingers through it, starting at the back of her neck. “Cut it a little. And straightened it.”

“I like it,” Johnny says, quickly, and then looks away. “Sorry.”

Kristen rolls her eyes. “Dude, you’re the only person I know who apologizes after a compliment.”

He opens his mouth, but she cuts him off with, “And don’t say sorry.”

He laughs. He looks good, wearing a backwards black hat, jeans, and plaid button-down. She can smell some cologne, too. She wonders if maybe he _was_ on a date, earlier, but shakes it off.

“Listen, there’s a Stones laser light show tonight. Wanna go?”

“Really?” Johnny asks, surprise evident.

“Sure, it’d be fun.”

“Okay,” Johnny agrees, after a moment.

She puts on Sleigh Bells in the car and Johnny complains, “This is just noise.”

“Ugh,” Kristen groans, but changes it after one song in favor of some Jenny Lewis. “Better?”

“Hmm,” Johnny says, listening. “Yeah, I like it,” he decides after a few moments. She grins and tells him about her day, making him crack up at the Leno thing.

“That’s amazing. We should watch you on it later.”

She shrugs. “I’m not taping it, and we may not be back in time. Plus it’s sorta weird, like, watching interviews of myself.”

“I guess it would be,” Johnny agrees.

“I wish I’d smoked up,” Kristen laments, as they walk into the planetarium.

Johnny laughs. “Same.”

“Well I’ve got some, whenever you want, bro.”

He smiles down at her, warmly; her stomach flips.

Johnny’s totally into the show, given how anytime Kristen sneaks a peek over he’s got a small, satisfied grin on his face, which grows anytime he catches her gaze. She finds herself wishing he’d hold her hand, like she’s a teenager again and it’s her first time sitting in a darkened theater with someone. It’s been awhile since she felt this way; normally, if the person hasn’t made a move yet, she’ll do it herself. Pining over someone is definitely unfamiliar territory as of late, but she can’t say she hates it. It’s almost thrilling to crave just the touch of his hand, even though she knows she won’t get it.

They stop for self-serve yogurt afterwards, and she scoffs when he heads for all the healthy toppings.

“Dude, live a little,” she teases.

“It’s yogurt, not ice cream; that doesn’t even make sense,” he retorts, pissy. Still, he piles on some chopped Snickers, and she fist-pumps in triumph.

“I worked at one of these places in college. Everyone would always make such a mess of the toppings,” he says, between spoonfuls, disdainfully.

She laughs, and then blinks. “College?”

His mouth twists. “Uh, yeah. Went to UCLA. Had a lot of part-time jobs.”

She wants to ask more about school, what he studied, if he graduated, but Johnny’s face says this is the lone personal detail she’ll be learning tonight.

“People are pigs,” she agrees instead, and he laughs. It sounds practically grateful.

As they’re walking down Vine, she can see a paparazzo in a car, camera poised out the window. She rolls her eyes and stops, abruptly. Johnny nearly trips over her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Photographer, down the block,” she says, turning away to face him.

Johnny backs up. “Oh. You wanna wait?”

Kristen smirks up at him. “Nah, man. If he wants a picture…”

She turns back around and starts walking forward, flipping the guy double-birds and spinning in circles, doing an impromptu dance.

He’s definitely taking the pictures anyway. Kristen turns back to Johnny, who’s now completely under the awning of some stores.

“What’s up, man, you scared?”

Johnny shakes his head, but his eyes widen a fraction. “I just, uh, figured you wouldn’t want…”

She frowns at his almost pained expression. “Wouldn’t want what?”

“To be seen with me in pics or whatever, since I’m…” He trails off again, mumbling hardcore, but now she gets it.

Kristen kicks his leg. “Shut up. What do you think, you have prostitute tattooed across your forehead?”

He shoves his hands in his jeans and shrugs.

“Well, you don’t, and I don’t care anyway. Let’s go.”

Their hands brush for a moment as they walk, and she nearly gasps when one of his fingers runs along her wrist before moving away.

The ride home is mostly silent, but not uncomfortable. If anything, there’s a sort of tension in the air, but not the bad kind. Johnny turns to Kristen when they’re back at her place.

“I had a nice time tonight,” he says, quietly.

“Me too,” she says, just as quiet. Normally she’d be laughing at him -- how polite and shy he can be with shit like this -- but it doesn’t feel like that, tonight; the air feels charged around them.

They stare at one another, and she watches as his eyes drop to her mouth before jerking back up. Kristen bites at her bottom lip; Johnny’s gaze is near palpable. He takes one step closer, and then jerks his head, brushing past her. “G’night.”

She stares at the place he was just standing. “Yeah,” she says, hollowly. “Night.”

She jerks it again that night, shamelessly, not even attempting to keep from fantasizing. It’s obvious now to her that he wants -- something, at least. Maybe he’s just horny and wants to fuck, after being so used to it. Maybe it’s Kristen specifically. Either way, she moans his name as she comes, wondering what he thinks about when he jerks off - if it’s ever to thoughts of that night.

__________________________

Johnny’s a pretty easy-going roommate, in general. He cleans up after himself in the kitchen and doesn’t drip all over the hallway after showers; Kristen’s bedroom has its own bathroom, but Johnny’s is just down the hall from the guest room. He does leave some shit around the living room sometimes, though, and she busts his chops about it before letting him know she honestly doesn’t care.

It’s a Saturday night, and Alicia wants to go to a club. Kristen’s not totally down for it, though, even if it does mean they’ll possibly get drunk and hook up with one another at the end of the night. She’s still thinking about the night before, honestly, but so far Johnny hasn’t acted weird today, and she’s not about to either.

“Going out tonight?” Kristen asks over dinner.

“Nah, but I can if you need me to.”

She ignores that. “Neither am I.” She takes a bite of lemon chicken, thinking. “We could get drunk and play Rockband.”

He laughs, heartily. “Okay.”

“Cool. I’m singing, though. You can play guitar.”

“Fine by me.”

They drink, play, drink some more. Johnny’s pretty damn good at the guitar, actually. During a song change, she asks, “You ever play for real?”

“Yeah, I used to, some.”

“Awesome. Me too.”

He smiles. “You have a nice voice.”

She takes an exaggerated bow in an attempt to hide how stupidly happy that just made her.

“Thanks, man. Now let’s keep goin’. Wanna get my Blondie on.” They do Atomic, and she gets pretty into it, letting her voice go high and a little breathy, swinging her hips to the beat. By the time they’re finished, she can see a slight flush rising on his cheeks.

“My voice is cracking; let’s take a break,” she says, and grabs them some water.

Johnny’s sitting in the middle of the couch when she returns, and she decides, fuck it, and sits right next to him.

He smiles at her as he gulps down some water, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“You think I could play Debbie Harry in a film, or would I be typecasting myself 'cause of Joan Jett?” she wonders aloud.

He laughs. “Um, I dunno. Would you go blonde?”

“Fuck yeah, for Debbie.”

“My childhood memory of Debbie Harry is from that Mother Goose movie.”

Kristen gasps. “Oh my god, I loved that movie as a kid! Then I watched it again a few years ago and man, is it rough.”

“I try not to rewatch things like that if I can help it. Prefer to remember it in my head the way it was, you know?”

Kristen nods. “That makes sense.”

Johnny snorts. “Or it’s just delusion.”

She shoves at his shoulder. “Well, who needs reality?”

He ducks his head, grinning, and pats her hand that’s resting in the space between them. They both freeze and look at one another, faces way too close. Her head is spinning, and it’s definitely not just from the beer. Johnny looks down at their hands, stroking his fingers over the back of hers.

Kristen suppresses a shiver, blinking when his eyes travel back up. There’s want there, but also… fear? She leans in a little. Johnny tilts her face up, stroking his thumb and forefinger against her chin. He licks his lips before moving in, slowly.

Her breath catches. “I thought you don’t k—“

“Shut up,” he whispers before closing the distance.

Johnny’s lips press against her own, chastely, seeking pressure but nothing more. Kristen grips Johnny’s arms, pulling him closer and making his mouth part on a groan. She inches her tongue out and feels him sigh before his arms lock around the small of her back, pulling her flush against his chest and licking deeply into her mouth.

Johnny presses her against the back of the couch while their mouths press together at an almost desperate pace. Kristen moans as the kisses turn hotter, wetter. Johnny’s mouth skims down her neck and then back up to claim her lips again. Kristen pants against him and then shifts so she’s straddling his thighs. Johnny’s hands fit against the small of her back before sliding lower to squeeze her ass.

Kristen runs her own hands up Johnny’s arms, over his shoulders, before pulling on his hair and angling his head back. They make out that way for long minutes, his dick hard against her inner thigh, thrusting against one another for friction, until Kristen finally gasps out, “Bedroom.”

They stumble there, bumping into the coffee table and knocking a picture off the wall in the process.

Johnny strips Kristen of her t-shirt and then stares at her breasts; it should’ve been obvious she hadn’t been wearing a bra while they were just lazing around, but now she needs to rethink that assessment.

“Jesus,” he mutters and eases her back onto the bed, following with his body as his he squeezes her breasts together with both hands. Kristen gasps and arches her back as he kisses over her chest, lips grazing the skin down to her stomach. 

Johnny’s hands don’t leave her tits until he can’t go any lower without running into fabric. Then he’s standing, his jeans tenting obscenely, his hair a mess and his face completely flushed. Johnny rids Kristen of her jeans and panties before shucking off his own pants. Kristen stares at him, eyes lidded, and crooks her finger. “Get up here.”

Johnny hovers above her, braced on his arms as they kiss again, slow and wet, before Kristen rolls them over and slides her hand down to grip his dick through his boxers. He’s hard and thick, slightly bigger than average, probably, but nothing crazy; he felt fucking amazing inside her, though, that’s all she remembers or cares about.

Kristen kisses down Johnny’s chest, settling between his legs and skimming her fingers up and down his thighs before slowly peeling off his boxers, his dick springing free. She jacks him a little, taking in his slack face and blown pupils.

When she lowers her head, though, Johnny stops her with a hand on her shoulder. “Um, you don’t. You can use a condom.”

Kristen eyes him. “Are you clean?”

Johnny nods, hurriedly. “I swear, but still, if you’d rather not—“

“Then shut up,” Kristen cuts him off, grinning wickedly before lowering her head again.

Johnny lets out a low groan at the first feel of her mouth. Kristen laps at the head of his dick and feels a spurt of pre-come hit her tongue. She wraps her lips around him, gripping the base and sucking him down halfway.

“Oh, fuck,” Johnny gasps, his hands on her shoulders, thumbs stroking in small circles.

Kristen looks up to see him watching, intently, eyes completely dark, his top lip pulled between his teeth. She sucks him harder, sinking lower as her mouth meets her hand. She feels his body tense as she slides one hand down to fondle his balls.

“I want,” he moans, voice choked, “wanna be inside you.”

Kristen pulls off with a loud pop and groans. “Fuck, yeah.”

She slides up the bed and leans over to the nightstand. Johnny takes advantage of her position by sitting up and licking her pussy, causing her to drop the condom.

Kristen laughs, breathlessly, body near shaking. “Bastard.” He doesn’t stop, but she can feel his grin against her. It takes her three tries to pick up the condom.

Kristen kisses him, hard, sucking on his tongue and tasting herself.

Johnny kisses her neck and pulls the package from her hand, but she takes it right back, sitting on his thighs and pushing him to lie flat back. Kristen watches Johnny’s eyes go wide as he realizes what she has planned.

She grins, tucking her hair behind her ears before opening the condom wrapper with her teeth and slowly rolling it over his dick before sinking down. Kristen watches Johnny’s face during it, the way he stares at her in near wonder, gaze alternating between her mouth, her eyes, and the places their bodies are now joined.

She sighs when he’s fully inside her and runs her hands up his chest as she begins to move, slowly. Johnny stares up at the ceiling, catching her hands with his own and bringing them to his lips, kissing; her stomach flips. Johnny moves one hand to her clit, making her gasp and ride him harder, faster. Their eyes lock as he starts thrusting up in earnest. They find a rhythm that’s fast and rough; the bed knocks against the wall as she squeezes down on his dick, her head falling back.

“Oh god,” he gasps, sliding one hand up her throat, fingers splayed, finding her mouth. She sucks on one, groaning. “So good,” he whispers.

“Yeah,” Kristen agrees, as his fingers slip free and he circles them over her breast, his other hand pressing hard against her clit.

“Wanna make you come.” He sounds so determined.

“Close,” she admits, grinding down on his cock. He matches his upstrokes along with the movement of his hand, and she’s soon tumbling over the edge, her body shaking and arching.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Kristen hears him say, faintly, before he sits up and pulls her closer, slamming into her and stealing her breath in a desperate, wild kiss. It makes her head spin, but that could just be the orgasm. Johnny lets out gasping moans against her lips, and she feels his body tense as he comes.

He kisses all over her face, framing it in her hands while she struggles for breath. They collapse back onto the bed, still kissing and touching. Johnny slides free as they shift, and he weakly disposes of the condom, grumbling about it this time, which makes her laugh in delight against the pillows, her hair everywhere.

“Shut up,” he mutters as he returns, immediately pulling her back into his arms and pressing their lips together.

“What happened to Mr. ‘I don’t kiss,’” she teases as they part, feeling like she could go again already.

“I make exceptions for certain clients,” Johnny replies.

Kristen freezes, the smile still plastered to her face. Oh.

“As if you’re – “

“How much was that, then?”

They utter the words at the same time and then stop.

“What?” they both say, in unison, again.

“You first,” says Johnny, eyes narrowed.

“Just wanted to know how much that was, just now,” Kristen says, nudging him, smiling through the tightness in her chest. “Don’t wanna cheat you.”

He looks a little thrown. “I, uh,” he starts. “Consider it on the house.” He smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes.

“No, really, I want to.” She doesn’t. What she wants is to kick herself, for thinking this was – something it obviously wasn’t.

Johnny shakes his head, frowning. “Look, you’re already paying me to stay here. Just. Consider it trade, then, eh?” 

Kristen tries not to wince. “Yeah,” she says, numbly. “Okay.”

They lie there, not looking at one another. The mood has completely shifted, her mind reeling.

“I’ll just—“ Johnny says, after a few minutes, and starts to get up.

“Stay,” Kristen blurts. “Uh, I mean, only if you want.”

Johnny looks at her, searchingly. “I want,” he says, softly, after a moment.

They awkwardly shift, trying to get comfortable. He ends up spooning her from behind, the sheets tangled around them.

“Is this okay?” Johnny asks against her hair.

“Yeah,” Kristen sighs. “Hey, what were you gonna say before?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Johnny responds, an edge of wistfulness to his voice.

Kristen’s basically learned when not to press him. By the time she’s nearing sleep, Johnny’s body a solid presence behind her, she almost forgets she’s apparently paying him to be here like this.

__________________________

Kristen wakes up to the feel of Johnny sliding back into bed.

“S’time is it?”

“7:30. I used your private bathroom; I hope that was okay.”

She scoffs, rubbing at her eyes and turning to face him. “No, you need a permission slip for that.”

Johnny settles in beside her and kisses her neck. “Morning.”

“Morning,” she says, ducking her head. Kristen sort of expected for him to be out of her bed already, but she’s not displeased by this turn of events. Their lips meet, parting slightly for a tease of tongue -- along with some mild morning breath, but she honestly doesn’t care.

Johnny slides his hand down to her breast, grazing her nipple. “Is this okay?” he whispers against her cheek.

Kristen pulls back to look at him. “You’re in my bed because I want you here.” _And because I’m paying you_ , she adds silently, bitterly. “You don’t have to keep asking.”

He buries his head in the curve of her neck and nods, his hands skimming over her sides, under her tits, as his mouth works on her neck, sucking lightly.

She wants to ask if this is what _he_ wants right now, but can’t bring herself to, just grips his shoulders as he pulls back the sheet and slides down her body.

She knows he’s definitely into her sexually, she just… wants more.

It’s easy to forget about, though, when his fingers are inside her, when his mouth is hot and wet on her pussy as he mumbles how much he wants to make her come. Kristen’s finding she loves these random moments of dirty talk from Johnny – how it completely goes against his normal persona. She doesn’t know how someone who can be so awkward at times can also be so effortlessly sexual, but then again, past lovers have said the same thing about her, so.

Kristen comes with Johnny eating her out and his thumb on her clit. She kisses him after until he’s panting against her lips, before jerking him off, hard and fast, her palm slick. Johnny groans, low and deep, against her neck when he comes.

They’re a mess after, so they take a shower together, and Johnny ends up fucking her against the wall of it, Kristen’s legs around his waist, as she grasps his shoulders for purchase.

“Jesus Christ, don’t stop,” she moans. A steady stream of water is beating down around them; her legs are shaking, her whole body trembling.

He moans, loud, and she loves the sound of it. He doesn’t last long, coming first, but she’s not far behind. He’s panting as he puts her down, his head thrown back against the wall and the condom hanging pathetically off his dick.

“Sorry,” Johnny says, running a hand through his hair.

Kristen laughs, shakily. “For _what_?”

“Not getting you off first.” He winces.

She assumes that’s some client rule, and, well – she isn’t a client, even though he looks at her as one.

“I don’t give a fuck,” she says, severely. “You got me there. So don’t worry about shit like that.”

Kristen watches Johnny’s shoulders relax as he shoots her a stupidly warm smile, which basically makes her heart skip a beat.

Jesus Christ.

She walks out of the shower, needing a reprieve, and grabs a towel before tossing him one as well.

“What if we just stay in bed all day?” Kristen says as she’s changing the sheets, naked. Johnny’s thrown on his boxers and is helping her.

“I have work later, but otherwise, yeah, I’d be down for that.”

So they do, eating microwavable breakfast sandwiches, watching South Park episodes, smoking up. They talk a lot in between fooling around – about sports, politics, Canada. Johnny doesn’t divulge many personal details still, but some things do slip out, such as him having a younger brother with whom he loved going ice fishing and skiing as a kid. From the way he talks, Kristen can definitely tell Johnny hasn’t seen his family in a while. He gets a faraway look in his eye, voice going soft.

“I had a great day,” Johnny says, kissing her goodbye as he leaves for work.

She can’t help but wonder if it’s rehearsed – the type of stuff you’re supposed to say when leaving a client.

“So did I,” she replies, pushing the thought aside.

Johnny kisses her again. “See you later.”

Kristen rests against the back of the door after he leaves. “What the fuck am I doing?”

It’s times like this she wishes she had a pet; she could really use something to just hold right now.

Instead she calls Alicia, and they go out drinking, talking about nothing that has to do with ill-advised sex with hookers.

“Wanna come back to my place?” Alicia asks at the end of the night, while they’re standing in the parking garage. Kristen knows that tone, knows the night will end in hot kisses and Alicia’s tongue working her over until she’s boneless and blissed out. 

She smiles, apologetically. “Can’t. I’m sorta seeing someone.”

Kristen has no idea why she says that instead of just not being up for it. Yet it almost, stupidly, feels right, in her mind.

“Oh, what the hell, Kris? You haven’t said anything!” Alicia exclaims, slapping at her shoulder.

Kristen shrugs, awkwardly. “It’s new. Nothing to tell yet.”

Alicia looks skeptical but doesn’t press. “'Kay. Well, have fun,” she says, kissing Kristen’s cheek before getting into her car.

When Johnny gets home, they make out on the couch before taking it to her bedroom. He stays the night, again.

__________________________

They have a lot of sex over the next week. Johnny’s also spending every night in Kristen’s bed, and so she wakes up, more often than not, wrapped in his arms. They maneuver around one another easily in the kitchen and bathroom, kiss one another goodbye, and text when they’re on their way home.

It’s essentially the way she’d behave in a relationship -- except this isn’t one. The thing is, she doesn’t always need to be with someone, was perfectly happy alone before Johnny came around, but now she finds herself… wanting.

“How dateable would you say I am?”

“Definitely dateable,” CJ confirms over beers at his place.

“Yet you’ve never wanted to date me.”

“Well, no. That’d just be weird.”

Kristen huffs. “But it’s not like I’m the type of girl you’d wanna screw but wouldn’t wanna commit long-term to, right? I think I’m pretty easy-going and low maintenance.”

CJ’s looking at her like she’s grown three heads. “Did you pre-game before you came over or something? Yes, you’re easy-going. You’re easy-breezy, okay?”

Kristen groans into her hands. “I need more beer.”

“Oh, you’re on the internet, by the way.”

She raises her head. “Huh?”

“Yeah, forgot to tell you.” CJ fiddles with his iPhone before handing it to her. Sure enough, there are pictures of her impromptu middle finger freestyle.

She can just barely make out half of Johnny’s face in one of them, and he’s smiling at her.

“Beer,” she says, shoving the phone back at him. “Definitely more beer.”

CJ laughs at her, but complies.

__________________________

The next night, she and Johnny are lying on her bed, sweat cooling on their bodies after a rather intense session which started against the hallway wall, continued on the bedroom floor and climaxed (so to speak) on the bed.

Once they _made_ it to the bed, the sex slowed, though, stuttering into something loose and dreamy. They did it on their sides, breathing against one another’s mouths, their lips barely moving. Kristen’s stomach flipped as Johnny looked at her, tucking her hair behind her ear, kissing her forehead, her cheek, her shoulder. It felt -- really different than any time before, and since it ended, all she’s been trying to do is comprehend exactly what just happened and what she’s feeling.

Her head is on Johnny’s chest, and he’s tracing patterns along her upper back and shoulder blades when he starts talking. “I came here when I was 18, for college.”

Kristen freezes in surprise but kisses his chest to let him know she’s listening.

“I went to UCLA, like I said. I was interested in directing, liked the idea of being in charge of something like that. Housing alone cost a fortune, but I really didn’t want my parents' help with anything – was determined to do this myself, especially since they don’t have much.”

Kristen traces his wrist with her fingers.

“I took out loans and worked as much as I could, but when I graduated, shit was pretty bleak. I’d done internships here and there, but they didn’t lead anywhere. Then a buddy hooked me up as an assistant on a porno, but it was only a one-shot thing, and the pay wasn’t amazing. He said the real bucks were in the acting side, of it but...”

Kristen feels Johnny’s chest rise as he inhales deeply. “But I didn’t really want to be on camera that way. So he said he knew a guy that made good money doing that on the street, and… I gave it a shot. And learned I pretty much have talent at something, you know?”

He doesn’t even sound self-deprecating, just matter-of-fact. Kristen’s nonplussed.

She squeezes his hand, hard.

“Your parents?” she prompts, quietly.

“They don’t know. Think I’ve got some swanky job in casting at a studio.”

“You must miss them.”

“Yeah,” Johnny says shortly, voice too flat.

She knows he’s about to close off again and looks up him for the first time, resting her chin on his chest. He looks tired.

“Thank you.”

Johnny smiles down at her, sadly, before tucking her head against the crook of his neck.

__________________________

Rob drops in a few days later, unexpectedly, holding up a bag. “I brought sandwiches.”

“What are you doing here?” Kristen asks, through clenched teeth.

“You’ve been M.I.A.,” he says, accusingly.

“No, I haven’t, you’ve been filming.”

Rob waves his hand, “Whatever, I’m—“

“Kristen, have you seen my other shoe?”

Kristen freezes, and Rob blinks down at her, smirking.

“Oh,” she hears Johnny say behind her, and then Rob’s pushing past her.

“Hi!”

Kristen shuts the door behind him, reluctantly. “Rob, this is Johnny, Johnny, Rob.”

“Johnny? As in Johnny the—“ He trails off when he notices her glare. “The… guy… I’ve heard about.”

“Smooth,” Kristen mutters, risking a glance at Johnny. His eyebrows are furrowed and his jaw is tight. Wonderful.

“And you’re that vampire guy,” Johnny says, looking down at Rob with more disdain than she’s ever seen.

“In the flesh,” Rob says, obnoxiously cheerful, and Kristen wants to kick him. “If I’d known K had company, I would’ve brought another sandwich. Sorry, man.” He sounds apologetic, at least, so that’s something.

“Don’t worry about it. I was just leaving for work.”

“In broad daylight?” Kristen does kick him, then. That’s the thing with Rob; he’s got no fucking filter. The sad part is she knows he isn’t even intending to be a dick right now, it just comes out.

“At the _restaurant_ ,” Kristen supplies. “Your shoe’s under the coffee table,” she says to Johnny.

She elbows Rob repeatedly until Johnny returns.

“It was nice meeting you,” Johnny says magnanimously to Rob before kissing Kristen, long, slow and perhaps a little too dirty for a simple goodbye. “See you later.”

“Wait, I’ll walk you out,” Kristen says, a little dazed, before following Johnny to the door. “Listen, I’m so sorry about that.”

Johnny turns in the open doorway and shrugs. “It’s cool.”

Kristen shakes her head. “No, it isn’t. But, look, I’d only told him about that first night.”

Something pained crosses Johnny’s face, his eyes growing shuttered. “Right. It’s not exactly something to brag about, I guess.”

His tone is mild, but there’s something there that’s making her stomach churn. She reaches for his hand. “Hey,” she chides. “I’m not ashamed of you.”

He squeezes her fingers. “It’s fine, Kristen. I really gotta go.”

He kisses her quickly once more.

She stalks back into the kitchen and hits Rob in the shoulder.

“Oi! What?”

“You know _what_.”

“I’m sorry! I was a bit thrown, alright?”

Kristen sighs, disgusted, and grabs them each a Coke. “You’re an asshole.”

“Well, yeah,” he agrees, easily, “but I’m still sorry. Is lover boy alright?”

“Shut up,” Kristen grumbles, taking a bite of the turkey, cheddar and avocado sandwich he brought her. “And no. Yes. I don’t know.”

Rob laughs, incredulously. “What are you doing, K?”

“Damned if I know,” she whispers, mostly to herself. “We’re…I dunno. Messing around.”

“For money,” Rob says, not asking.

“I guess? It started as just a place for him to stay until he found something else.”

“Jesus, Kris, he’s a hooker, not some stray dog to rescue.”

“I’m not trying to rescue him,” Kristen says, voice hard.

Rob holds up his hands. “I’m just calling it as I see it.”

“Well, you’re blind,” she replies, flatly.

“Don’t think so,” he says, happily, taking a bite of his sandwich and then talking with his mouth

full, obnoxiously. “Tell you what else I see. That boy’s super jealous.”

She throws a napkin at him, scoffing. “Is not.”

“I thought his eyes alone were gonna kill me.”

“He’s harmless,” she argues.

Rob shrugs. “Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

She pauses.“Huh,” Kristen replies, thoughtfully.

They’re silent for a few moments, just eating.

“You really think he’s jealous?” She can’t hide the hopefulness in her voice, and Rob obviously calls her on it, laughing up a storm.

She hates him.

__________________________

Johnny’s been pretty off in the two days since the Rob incident. It isn’t that he’s angry, per se; he’s just – pretty damn withdrawn. It was clear to Kristen this was the case when he came back from work that night and said he was tired, before retiring to his own room – something he hadn’t done since they’d started hooking up. Kristen let him have his space, but asked the next day if anything was wrong, only for him to deny it. If there’s one thing she can’t stand, it's someone who won’t be forthcoming about shit like that. She pushed again last night, but he once again brushed it off. Nevertheless, they did have a nice night of playing Mario Kart and fucking on the couch. And he slept in her bed again, so.

Still, Kristen decides to round up the gang for a club outing. Because, one: it’s been far too long, and two: if Johnny _is_ feeling like she’s embarrassed of him, then this would be a fitting way to dispel that notion.

“We don’t have to go anywhere,” Johnny says as he’s pulling on some tight jeans.

She gets distracted by his ass for a moment before responding. “I know. I want to.”

He nods, shrugging into one of his many plaid button-downs, this one blue and white. “Do I look okay?” he asks, holding his arms out. He sounds oddly invested in the answer.

Rather than tease him, she steps in close and pulls him down for a long kiss with just a hint of tongue. “You look great.”

His answering smile and slight blush is totally worth it.

Johnny’s kinda stiff when they get there, though, letting Kristen lead him through the crowd and towards the back where Alicia said they’d be. CJ and Suzie came out, too; Kristen opted against inviting Rob, for obvious reasons.

She does all the introductions, and everyone salutes Johnny with a shot before Suzie passes him one.

“Thanks,” he yells over the music. Kristen squeezes his hand.

It’s always a little difficult keeping up conversation in a club, but Johnny’s definitely quiet even for club standards. Luckily, Kristen hangs out with a deeply personable group, and they’re soon engaging him on drinks, music, and the general L.A. club scene. It turns out Johnny loves house music as well, something Kristen can honestly take or leave. It gets him and Alicia talking about Swedish House Mafia, though, and she’ll forgive their awful taste if it means having Johnny yell animatedly over the music.

Kristen drags him to the dance floor after he’s got a few drinks in him. He’s a pretty fuck-awful dancer, but she doesn’t even care. The place is packed, she’s got her eyeglasses and backwards hat on, and she doesn’t really have to worry about people pestering her for an autograph right now, so she just slides her leg between Johnny’s thighs and grinds against him. His arms are around her, and she feels his breath hot against her neck.

He moves back to put some space between them, staring down at her in a mix of surprise and want. His lips part, but before he can say anything, someone jumps up behind him, clapping him on the back.

“Johnny?! Dude, I thought that was you.”

The guy is shorter than Johnny, with blonde hair sticking out of his baseball cap on the sides.

Johnny’s eyes widen, but he recovers quickly. “Hey, Kaner. Long time no see.”

They’re both having to yell over the music, and Kristen just watches, arms at her sides now as Johnny’s moved away.

“How you been, man? You still workin’?”

Johnny casts a furtive glance at Kristen. “Uh, yeah, you know. How are you?”

“Good, good. Got a gig doing voiceovers for video games. It’s pretty sweet.”

Kristen watches his jaw twitch. “That’s great, man.”

“You look good,” Kaner shouts, and even through the loudness of his voice, Kristen can clearly make out the interest.

“You too,” Johnny replies, all politeness.

Kaner (apparently) stares at Johnny for a moment before glancing behind him and smiling apologetically. “Shit, I gotta run, but hey, you should call me sometime.” He places his hand on Johnny’s arm, sliding his fingers up and down.

“Uh, sure. See ya.”

When Johnny looks back at her, his face is a little red, and he’s still looking slightly shell-shocked.

“Sorry.” He winces. “Figured you wouldn’t wanna be introduced.”

Kristen shrugs, smirking. “Dude only had eyes for you anyway.”

If possible, Johnny seems to grow even tenser. “I need a drink.”

He walks towards the bar before she can say anything. She really wants to follow, but gives him some space, joining Suzie at the table instead.

“Excuse yourself when he comes back,” Kristen says, and Suzie does, in the most obnoxiously obvious way possible, of course.

Johnny barely notices, though; he’s glaring at the drink in his hand, slumped in his seat.

“That was embarrassing,” he says, finally.

Kristen frowns at him. “Because that dude was hitting on you?”

Johnny shakes his head. “Because your friends could’ve seen that and – sorry. I don’t normally run into people from my… line of business. Like that.”

Kristen puts a hand on his arm. “Hey. It’s not a big deal.”

She flashes on that Kaner guy asking if Johnny was still working, on Johnny saying yes. She’s been trying not to think about it since it happened, actually; it _is_ a big deal, and it shouldn’t be, can’t be.

“He _was_ hitting on you, though,” she teases, waggling her eyebrows, because she needs to say something, anything.

Johnny twitches a little. “We used to hook up...”

Oh. Suddenly the teasing isn’t a very good distraction.

“So did Alicia and me,” she says, taking a long drink; she figures she may as well give him something back, if he’s sharing. Plus, she trusts him, even though in actuality, she’s well aware he should’ve signed an NDA after that first night.

Johnny looks at her, surprise evident on his face, along with something else she can’t place. It’s gone before she can process it.

“Anyway, looks like he wants to again,” she says, careful to sound disinterested. Johnny just stares at her, blinking.

“Yeah, well,” he replies, evasively. The sharp coil of jealousy in her gut is not as unexpected as it is unpleasant -- not to mention stupid.

Kristen downs the rest of her drink, slamming her glass on the table. “Hey, how about we get out of here and you fuck me?”

Johnny nods without hesitation. “Let’s go.”

__________________________

The next week, Courtney calls her asking if she’s got a plus one for the premiere on Friday, and Kristen hesitates, chewing on her lip.

“Yeah, put me down.”

She asks Johnny that night.

“Um,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. “If that’s what you want?”

She guesses he’s just trying to be considerate to a client’s wants and needs, but it’s getting tiresome. She wants to say that yes, it’s what she wants - she wants him on her arm, she wants to show him off, even if he thinks he doesn’t deserve that shit. Except -- he’s not hers to show off, and it’s not fair for her to burden him with things she’s feeling, when he doesn’t feel the same way, just because she was dumb enough to go and fall for him.

“It won’t be terrible,” she says instead. “Premieres can be sorta awful, but this one is way low key, more like just going to a movie. There’s no full red carpet, just a place for photo call and shit.”

Johnny nods, looking slightly more relaxed. “That sounds alright.”

Kristen shoves at his arm, grinning. “We gotta go shopping, then.”

____________________

She drives them to Rodeo, where Courtney’s already waiting for them in Zegna. “This is too much,” Johnny hisses when they enter, flattening down his hair and fussing with his t-shirt.

“Just let me,” Kristen replies, touching his hand briefly.

Courtney’s a great help, and between the three of them and the salesman, they pull together a few different options for him to model. At first Johnny is totally stiff and awkward, but he loosens up quickly and is soon totally hamming it up, making Kristen and Courtney giggle way too loudly. 

“Where’d you find this guy?” Courtney asks, impressed, as Johnny’s heading back to the dressing room.

Kristen smiles even though the words are a clear reminder of everything this isn’t. “I have my ways.”

Johnny chooses the beige pinstripe suit, baby-blue collared shirt beneath it, and a dark blue striped tie with bits of pink in it. He looks ridiculously good, and Kristen whistles just so she can watch him blush. 

She hands her credit card over to the salesman before Johnny comes back out, and then discreetly checks out the watch selection. She finds a brown one with a vintage face and immediately chooses it.

“Can you put that in a different bag for me, please?”

“Not a problem, Miss Stewart.”

She throws it in her purse just as Johnny’s walking towards her.

“This really was too much,” he says as they leave.

“Stop, you looked great. You’re gonna kill it tomorrow.”

He worries at his lip but doesn’t argue the issue any further.

“Hey listen, Rob mentioned there’s a PA job opening on a film one of his friends is doing.”

Johnny doesn’t say anything, and so she looks over at him when she’s stopped at a light. He’s staring down at his hands.

“I don’t need a handout,” he says, tightly.

Kristen blinks. “Huh? Dude, it’s a job mention -- there’s no string-pulling.”

“Thanks,” Johnny says, dully. “But I don’t need it.”

“Okay...”

The rest of the drive is uncomfortable at best.

__________________________

Things are pretty okay again until they're ready to leave. Kristen gives Johnny the watch, holding it out and making him open the box himself. His eyes go wide at first, and he almost even looks happy until he seems to check himself, shaking his head. “You really don’t have to do things like this, it’s--”

“It’s what?” Kristen asks, frowning.

“It’s confusing... to me.” He doesn’t meet her eyes, looking down at the floor as though he’s willing it to swallow him up.

Oh.

This is what she’s been trying to avoid -- not making it obvious that she thinks of him as more than someone she pays, when it’s obviously just a job for him. Clearly she’s failing.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, wishing the floor would swallow her up as well. “You don’t have to wear it.”

He finally looks up at her. “I want to. I just -- had to say that.” He looks so sad, and really, she doesn’t need any pity.

She helps him put it on and actually has to fight back tears when he tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear and kisses her forehead.

Thankfully, the limo arrives, and Courtney’s standing outside to greet them.

“Do you want to do the red carpet with me or just go in?” Kristen asks when they’re nearly there.

“Um, go in, if that’s okay?”

Kristen looks at Courtney. “Show Johnny where to go and I’ll meet you?”

“Sounds good.”

It isn’t anything crazy, like she said, but there are definitely some fans. Cameras snap as they exit, and Johnny looks like a deer in headlights.

“Relax,” Kristen says, touching his hand before heading over to sign some autographs. She sees him nod, jerkily, and then he’s walking into the theater.

“Kristen, who’s your date?!” a reporter calls out.

“None of your business,” she replies snarkily, and everyone laughs.

The photo call goes quickly, and then she’s inside, sitting between Johnny and Courtney. She wants to hold his hand but forces herself not to.

“Are you okay?” she whispers.

“Yeah,” he says, shortly.

He doesn’t touch her throughout the movie.

Kristen introduces Johnny to the cast at the after-party. Johnny drinks a lot and is mostly quiet. He goes tense when people ask what he does, but he just says he’s a waiter, and she can tell how even that’s difficult for him. She’s not embarrassed, though; she doesn’t know how to make that clearer.

They get their picture taken as they leave, and Johnny tenses up even further, cursing under his breath. They’re silent in the limo on the way back, and really, she has no idea what to say, because he’s giving off ‘leave me alone’ vibes.

“I was hoping to sleep in the guest room tonight, if that’s okay,” Johnny says when they get back.

“Of course,” Kristen says, helplessly. “It’s your room.”

He pauses in the hall and turns. “You were great in the film.”

Then he’s turning on his heel and closing his door.

Kristen sighs and goes to her own room.

She’s up before him the next morning, and also realizes it’s been a month, and she owes him his next check. She can’t bring herself to give it to him in person, though, so she slides it under his door and then grabs some coffee and settles in with a book on the couch.

When Johnny finally does emerge, he does so with his duffel bag, which is clearly packed.

Kristen blinks. He freezes mid-step when he notices her sitting on the couch.

“Um,” he says, and then places the check on the table near the door. “I’m leaving.”

“Obviously,” she says, standing even though she doesn’t feel very steady. “Why?”

He looks towards the windows, not meeting her eyes. “I -- can’t do this anymore.”

“I didn’t realize it was such a hardship,” she says, meanly, the hurt welling up inside her.

Johnny winces. “It’s not. That’s the problem.”

Kristen gapes at him. “What -- what are you talking about?”

Johnny shakes his head, shifting on his feet. “Look - this isn’t fair to you, okay? I’m disrupting your life, there’s gonna be pictures of us from last night, and someone will probably tell some tabloid who I am -- or I’ll be announced as your lowly waiter date when I’m not even that much, I’m a fucking busboy.”

Kristen rolls her eyes. “I don’t care about any of that.”

“ _I_ care!” Johnny yells, and it’s the first time she’s heard him do so outside of video games. Honestly, it’s such a fucking relief.

“Why?” Kristen yells back, wanting to engage him.

“Because it’s all I am! And I’m not good enough for you or the type of world you live in, and you fucking -- treat me like I’m something more, buying me shit and taking me out to meet your friends and--”

“I’m sorry,” Kristen whispers, right as he says, “And it sucks because it’s what I want!”

“Wait, what?” Kristen says, dumbly, her heart seizing.

“Fuck,” Johnny mumbles. “Nothing, I gotta...” He starts walking towards the door, but she grabs his arm.

“No, what did you mean just now?”

Johnny looks down at her, his face open, vulnerable. “I don’t want you to pay me,” he whispers, sounding despondent and apologetic all at once. “I... I left part of the money the first time because I’d lied; I would’ve charged more for the sex.”

Kristen stares up at him, eyes wide and lip quivering. Her insides are doing somersaults.

“I never wanted money to have sex with you,” Johnny continues. “I’d fucking stay here without earning a cent, if you wanted me to. And that’s exactly why I need to leave.”

Kristen shakes her head and grips his hand, lacing their fingers together. “Well, I never wanted to pay you.”

Surprise flitters across his face. “You--”

Kristen nods, earnestly. “I thought it was what you wanted -- that you just saw me as another client.”

“Christ, no,” Johnny says, fervently.

Kristen smiles slowly, something unlocking inside her, and she watches as Johnny does the same, looking sheepish and happy.

Johnny raises a hand to her face, finally dropping his duffel bag to the floor.

He presses their foreheads together, and Kristen wraps her arms around his waist. They stand there, hugging, until Johnny brings their mouths together. They kiss slowly, as if it’s the first time. They stumble towards Kristen’s bedroom, and he eases her down, slowly stripping her of her clothes and kissing every inch of her body. It’s slow and dreamy like that one other night - like they’re speaking everything they’re feeling through their bodies.

“So you’re staying?” Kristen asks afterwards, while they’re cuddling and she’s still feeling stupidly happy.

Johnny smiles. “For now. No money, though,” he warns.

“Never again,” Kristen promises, nuzzling her cheek against his chest.

__________________________

Epilogue - Two Months Later

“We’ve talked about this; I can’t just keep freeloading.”

Kristen rolls her eyes. It’s a conversation they’ve essentially been having non-stop over the past week, with Johnny looking into getting a place of his own.

He’s got some steady work coming in right now after he broke down and interviewed for the PA job. It was a four-week gig, and the director, an up-and-comer himself, loved Johnny’s attention to detail even if it was banal, gofer shit. They got to talking, and once he learned Johnny’s true passion, set him up with an interview for a DA job on a TV show. He screamed when he officially got the call back, raising both fists in the air before twirling Kristen around.

They also dealt with some drama shortly after her premiere, in which the tabloids picked up the story of Kristen’s “secret affair with a prostitute.” Johnny was so upset he nearly left again.

“I can’t bring you down like that. It’s not fair,” he said.

“You’re not. It’ll blow over like everything in this town. Trust me, you have no idea the things people dismiss that are rooted in truth.”

He eased up about it, and she was right: most people have just overlooked the whole thing.

They don’t flaunt when they go out together, but they don’t hide either. Things have been good. Really, really fucking good, which is why it’s ridiculous for Johnny to be saying this again. She gets it, but still. So she decides to try out option B, which she’s been weighing for a while; she knows she wants it, but she’s nervous as to his reaction.

“Look; you’re over here all the time anyway, and you still would be if you had your own place.”

Kristen waits for him to deny it, but he just nods, sheepishly.

She takes a breath. “So if you’re so set on pulling your own weight, why don’t you just pay me rent?”

Johnny’s lips quirk up. “Seriously? Thought we said no more money.”

Kristen smirks. “That was me paying you.” Johnny confessed to her one night that he used the three grand to pay off some of his student loans. “How about you pay me this time?”

Johnny laughs loudly, his head thrown back. “You’re ridiculous,” he announces, picking Kristen up and kissing her while she swats at his arms.

“My answer is yes,” Johnny says, needlessly, when he finally puts her down.

_Yeah_ , she thinks, smiling broadly, _this could definitely work._

The end.

**Author's Note:**

> I started talking about this crackship in, like, February. At that time, I never expected to write it much less anyone read it. So thank you to all that have read the prior two stories with this pairing. I really hope you enjoy one that officially ships them (and even if you don't, tough luck, cause more is coming /o\\).


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